It all starts with a feeling
by Pianoninja
Summary: WARNING: Spoiler related Janny one-shot, expect feels, emotion and sadness.


**Spoilers for the 17th of September just came out and I decided it was about time I wrote something depressing and spoiler related. This is quite different to my usual style of writing but I hope you like it anyway. Also, I'm sorry if you cry but I did too. :3 Enjoy! xx :) **

The first time you feel it, it's doesn't quite seem real. For a moment you don't realise what it is that's happening. Then it sinks in and you wait for it to happen again, to make sure you're not dreaming. It happens again, the tiniest of movements beneath the protective walls of your uterus, the first indication that there is life inside you. You can't help but smile as you imagine the being inside you, squirming and kicking, making it's first of many movements to come. The people around you have become overly vigilant these past few weeks, so they can't help but notice you stood there silently with one hand placed tenderly over your stomach. Their first instict is to panic, they think there's something wrong, something that has rendered you unable to speak. You smile at them and they look back at you confused, they must think you're stark raving mad. Silently you take their hand and hold it gently over the spot yours was sitting just moments ago. When they attempt to speak you bring a solitary finger to your lips and they stop in the middle of the word. They are looking at their hand entrapped between this life and your fingers, and then it happens. The life inside you chooses that moment to fidgit once again, just slightly, but just enough to let the outside world register it's existence. They look up at you with sparkling eyes and a grin stretched across their face, you smile back at them and laugh. You both stay there for a moment that seems like eternity, not moving, just sharing that time between the three of you. The three of you, that's something you've never thought of before, it's always been just you, now you have a family to think of. He takes your hands in his and looks you dead in the eyes, his big blue eyes are gleaming back at you with tears of joy battleing to the edges. He must be able to see the panic darting across your face because he speaks softly to you, in a way that instantly begins to calm you,

"Jac, we're having a baby."

Spontaneously he pulls you into his arms, you don't fight it because for once in your life you need it, you're feeling alone, vulnerable and afraid of what's coming. He probably doesn't realise that this is the reason you've latched on to him like your life depended on it, as if you're making sure he won't leave you on your own with this thing inside you. He is also hugging you tightly, but you're sure his over eagerness is just excitement, he has nothing to be scared of really. He can just get up an leave if things go wrong, when things start to get difficult.

* * *

Later on and your lay on the usual hospital examination bed with a young fresh faced sonographer waving the probe around the pale skin of your ever expanding abdomen. You think back to the last time you were here, ten weeks ago when you scolded him for talking to 'the foetus', now you wish he would say something because the silence surrounding you is deafening. It's different from last time, there's a strange atmosphere and you've got a bad feeling about something. The youthful sonographer still hasn't said anything, she looks at the screen slightly bewildered. She mumbles something about going to get another member of staff and you hope she's just being icompetent and doesn't know what she's looking for. You hope that, but part of you is sure it's something more, the butterflies dancing around your stomach begin to make you feel nauseous. You look at each other and he forces a worried smile onto his face, you long for his touch, for him to reach out and grab your hand, but you've pushed him away too many times for fear of not being able to control yourself. The door swings open and a consultant enters, followed by the earlier sonographer who is in possession of an extremely morbid facial expression. He is much older, obviously more competent, his grey hair and the lines that trace over the skin of his face tell you that. He is obviously a veteran of situations like yours because the frown has been etched into his features, the wrinkles an ever lasting reminder of what he has to deal with every day. He takes the place of the youngster and begins examining your womb as she had done moments before but this time it is obvious he has found something. He stops, keeping his hand in the same place over your abdomen and staring into the screen infront of him. Normally you would show your impatience and tell him to get on with it and tell you what he was looking at, but you're not sure you want him to. Even if you could speak you don't think you'd know what to say, which question to ask or which words to use. You hardly notice when the silent man beside you takes hold of your hands and joins you in watching the working consultant. Finally he turns to face you, bring the screen round with him, the image of your child floating in the middle seems to be staring back at you, taunting you with what it knows that you don't. He begins to speak, slowly and with a solemn, apologetic tone to his voice

"Ms Naylor, I'm sorry..."

You don't really hear the rest, your numb to everything around you, part of your brain hoping that the devastated man attatched to your hand is listening and taking in whatever awful news is being spoken. You hear the words but they don't seem to convey any meaning, you can't seem to make any sense of them, until finally you here that last sentence

"I think you should consider a termination."

The words float around your mind indefinitely, you twist them every which way possible, trying to make some sense out of what you have just been told. That something you weren't sure you wanted in the first place, something which you only really came to terms with a few hours before, something that scared you so much, might be gone before you get chance to love it.

* * *

He takes you back to the ward and tells them you're both going home, you haven't spoken since the diagnosis and your not sure you would be able to explain if people asked. You're still not completely aware of what's happening around you, walking around in a daze still contemplating those final words. You notice him pick up your things and you nod, displaying some sort of gratitude. In the confines of his car you begin to think, of every possible outcome, what would happen if you took the old mans advice, and what would happen if you ignored it. What the implications would be for both of you either way. He pulls up outside your block of flats and you clime the stairs in silence. You walk in and he tells you to sit down, offering to make you hot drinks and food, you shake your head and he sighs as he sits on the opposite side of the room. He makes the daring leap into the conversation you're both dreading, letting you know he'll be there no matter what and he'll respect your decision. You know it'll kill him if you take the consultant's advice but it might kill you if you don't. This is an impossible situation and it seems someone will get hurt no matter what you do. There is no way round this, no way out, no way of fixing the mess you've gotten yourselves in to. Finally you interupt his kind mutterings but find yourself still not knowing what to say. He carry's on babbleing and you call out quietly

"Jonny.." He continues, probably not wanting to listen to what you have to say, he can't even look you int the eye. You try again softly but with some caution

"Jonny...?" He tries to ignore you but you hear his voice breaking as he continues. You move closer to him and take his hand in yours, there are tears streaming down his cheeks. It physically hurts you to see him like this, knowing you are the reason he's destroying himself on the inside, knowing what you have to say will only make it worse. He's looking at you, probably running through every scenario in his broken mind, you let go of his hands, not sure you can be that close when what you're about to say hits him. You take a deep breath and it takes all the energy and courage you have to say this,

"Jonny," you've started and he's watching you, willing you to continue, you take another deep breath and look him straight in the eyes, that is the least he deserves after all, finally you say it "I don't think I can do this." You feel the child moving beneath the walls of your uterus once again, the broken child that is causing you all this pain and hurt, the child that has suddenly become so unpure, it's still moving inside you. This only makes it worse, suddenly it all becomes real and you begin to feel again. A sorrowful tear finally escapes from the corner of your grief stricken eyes, followed by hundreds more, you collapse into him because that one sentence has taken everything from you. He hold you in his arms, sheltering you from the world and wondering what the hell he is going to do now.


End file.
